


For We Are Stardust

by Arlow_Ahern



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also Pensieves, And he deserves more than the bloody Epilogue gave us, Angelina Johnson Is Scary, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anything else...?, Biracial Audrey, Biracial Character, But with a new twist to them, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean and Luna are adorable, Dying is easy young man, Excessive Hufflepuff Pride, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Audrey, Hufflepuff Audrey, Implied Sexual Content, Living is harder, M/M, PTSD Percy, Percy is adorkable, Perfect Percy, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Rebuilding is a bitch, Slow Burn, Still Not Over Fred, Survivor Guilt, also heck yeah Poppy Pomfrey, oh yeah, only like a lil more graphic, only not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlow_Ahern/pseuds/Arlow_Ahern
Summary: "She could tell that he wanted to remain an enigma to her, but Audrey entertained the thought of staring his blank exterior into non-existence; she'd gently unravel him until there would be nothing left to hide behind, only the pillars of all physiological structure.And there, between the remains of exploding stars that build all life billions of years ago, woven into those tiny fragments of unimaginable proportions, she would lay bare his golden stardust soul."▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪Audrey Simmons is an explosion of colour and scent in a world that has been struck blind by war and robbed of all its senses;Percy Weasley is a broken man, trying to piece a life back together that used to make sense, before everything came apart.When they collide, it's the sun aligning with the moon, meeting in an infinite eclipse beneath the slow dance of dying stars.▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> ✰ ✰ ✰ 
> 
> DISCLAIMER
> 
> If I were Jo Rowling, I wouldn't waste my time with mediocre writings under weird pen names on the Internet. 
> 
> (I also would never allow Hogwarts Mystery to happen.)
> 
> This is a work of Fiction. The general Plot belongs to me, so please don't steal it. 
> 
> Not cool. 
> 
> ✰ ✰ ✰

  ✰ ✰ ✰  

**DEDICATION**

 

_For all those_

_with hungry hearts and messy hair -_

_seize adventure_

~~_and get a brush_ ~~

 

  ✰ ✰ ✰  

**EPIGRAPH**

 

_You don't understand;_

_it's not that he can't love_

_it's that he's_ _**afraid** _

**\- unknown**

  ✰ 

_Magic tumbled from her pretty lips_

_and when she spoke_

_the language of the universe -_

_the stars sighed in unison._

**- Michael Faudet**

 

 ✰✰✰


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A world collapses.

✰✰✰

> _" 'Get down!'Harry shouted, as more curses flew through the night: he and Ron had both grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the floor, but Percy lay across Fred's body, shielding it from further harm, and when Harry shouted, 'Percy, come on, we've got to move!' he shook his head._
> 
> _'Percy!'Harry saw tear tracks streaking the grime coating Ron's face as he seized his elder brother's shoulders and pulled, but Percy wouldn't budge."_

✰

_\- Excerpt from J.K. Rowling's_ _**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows** _ _,_

_Page_ 513,  _Chapter_ 32 _:_

_'The Elder Wand'_

✰✰✰

 

The world had turned upside down, indifferent to the havoc it had caused by reversing the natural order of things; Percy was left holding on, the limp body that he kept a violent grip on the only thing that kept him from falling into the age-old abyss that had opened up beneath him, yearning to devour him like it had devoured countless others before.

Pain. Unspeakable, fathomless pain cursed through his veins with steadily growing intensity, clawing at his guts and pounding against the confines of his ribcage with the ferocity of a wild animal. Percy knew he had to keep it locked inside, as far away from the ruins of this corridor as possible.

If he let it out, it would grow into an actual, tangible  _thing_ , a beast of his own making - real, physical pain that would no longer be a trap for only his mind to run circles in until it broke him. It would break everything.

His lungs betrayed him with burning ferity, forcing out wails of agony that reached his ears in a voice that sounded both alien and intimately familiar, terribly distorted by the place of sheer terror it stemmed from.

And then, without any warning, the weight of the world came crashing back in all its magnitude. All air was knocked out of Percy's lungs and his cries were momentarily interrupted as gravity regained its footing. A pair of firm hands had gripped the tense muscle of his shoulders, shaking him out of his trance.

The noise of the ongoing battle erupted all around him as if someone had turned the volume up with the flick of their wand; and along with the thunderous sounds and screams returned the biting cold of the night air streaming into the corridor from where half of the outer wall had been blown apart, the urging voices of Harry Potter and -  _Ron_ , it was his brother's pale, twisted face that was hovering inches away from Percy's,  _his_ fingers that clutched into the fabric of his cloak and repeatedly, forcefully shook him.

" _Percy_!" he screamed, and there was an edge of desperation to his voice that suggested that this wasn't the first time he'd called for him. "Percy, you can't do anything for him! We're going to - "

Percy saw it coming before Hermione's high-pitched shriek pierced the curse-lit night around them, but Ron and Harry were still faster. As he scrambled to get his wand in the air, the giant, hairy body of the Acromantula crumbled under the force of two red bolts of light, catapulting it from the hole in the wall that it had tried to squeeze through like a grotesque puppet being whisked backwards with a forceful tug of its strings.

"It brought friends!" someone screamed hoarsely,  _Harry_ , Percy recognized through the fog still clouding his brain, and sure enough, more of the enormous spiders emerged from the rubble surrounding them, climbing towards them in a horrifying scramble of numerous long, thick legs. 

Percy buried his face in the unmoving chest of the body beneath him, clutching into the fabric of the robes that he knew - somewhere deep in the faraway corners of his consciousness - belonged to Fred, letting out a strained moan as the air around him exploded into scorching hot curses shooting over his head in rapid succession, burning the ends of his neck hairs and searing their mark into delicate skin.

This was how he was going to die, Percy was sure of it. The realisation of impending death only weighed him down that little bit more, causing him to wrap his arms around the corpse of his brother, ignoring the rough fragments of debris scraping over his skin.

He couldn't let go. He couldn't leave him behind. They could still patch him up, if only he managed to get him away from here, away from the noise and the stench and the climate of finality clinging to the word  _dead - he's_ dead _, Percy, you can't do anything -_

Fred's body was jerked from underneath him, and as Percy snapped his head up to protest, he was met with the grim eyes of Harry Potter, shaggy black hair clinging to his sweaty forehead and effectively covering the infamous scar.

He was panting, arms locked under Fred's armpits, trying to heave the pounds of slack muscle over the wreckage and out of the way. In a split second, Percy reacted, hauling his brother's legs over his shoulders and assisting Harry in moving the corpse into the relative safety of a nearby corridor. "Here," huffed Harry, grimacing towards an empty niche that had once occupied a suit of armor, its remains scattered on the stone floor around them. They folded Fred's body into the alcove as best as they could, his arms and legs in eerily unnatural positions.

Percy took a moment to brace himself against the bricks with one hand as Harry sped off after the figures of Ron and Hermione hurrying past. Blood stained his trembling fingers as he hastily wiped over his throbbing, sticky nose.

Fred's body was just sitting there, stuffed into the shadows of his final hiding place, and he still wasn't moving after Percy pressed his eyes closed and blinked them open again in a frantic attempt to  _undo_ what all his senses were screaming at him with deafening certainty.

His brother had died, and Percy wouldn't be able to fix it. It was even worse than that, it dawned on him as the realisation doubled down on him with the force of a painfully precise battery of blasting courses aimed directly at his anxiously thrashing heart.

Percy had been the one to distract him - it was  _his_ stupid joke that had blasted Fred off his feet and into this lifeless shell, the hint of a smile now the only residue of all that had once been, still tugging at the corners of its lips.

He had killed his brother.

✰✰✰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That was, hands down, the most emotionally drained I have ever been after writing anything, ever. *still so not over Fred*
> 
> Welcome to my passion project! I felt the urge to finally jot down this story that has been ghosting over every single piece of HP Fanfiction I've written since the release of 'Deathly Hallows'.
> 
> It's also the first of my stories that I feel ready to share with a broader audience than my siblings - thanks to their endless prodding -, so this whole experience is pretty much new and deliciously unfamiliar territory for me.
> 
> I'm really hoping that I'll pull through with this and manage to stick to a consistent upload cycle. I'm also hoping that I'll be able to share this journey with some sympathisers of the loveable Pompous Percy out there - to many broken hearts to come!
> 
> If you enjoy my writing or have some valuable tips for improvement, please don't hesitate to leave your thoughts in the comment section. I would love to hear any kind of feedback you might want to throw at me.
> 
> Hugs!


	3. The Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has to go on.

✰ ✰ ✰

"But what did the rabbit  _look_ like?"

A deep chuckle rumbled through Eamonn Simmon's chest as he lovingly ruffled the little boy's head, unflustered by his shrieks of protest. Lathering his son's curls in shampoo, the massive, bearded man flashed a toothy grin at the girl perched on the edge of the bathtub, his dark face shining with mirth. Giggling, Audrey Simmons mirrored her father's conspiratorial smile.

"I can't remember - was it white, maybe? With wee, pointy ears and green spots?" Eamonn mused. "Dunk!"

Audrey stared down at her canary yellow socks, stretching her dangling feet until she could feel the bathroom tiles at the tips of her big toes.

A wonky sort of haze seemed to be clouding her vision, but she couldn't manage to lift her hands to rub them. Something felt strange.

Behind her, Macky dunked and spluttered, gasping for air and immediately continuing to prod his father about  _Babbity Rabbity_ , hanging at his every word. He either didn't notice that Eamonn was spinning a different telling of the tale every single time, or he simply didn't mind - either way, it was  _their_ story.

Audrey turned to splash her babbling brother with water, squealing in delight and jumping out of his reach as he raised his little fists to return the favour.

Shaking his head in mock seriousness, Eamonn rubbed Macky's ears with the soapy washcloth, gently constraining him to keep his limbs from flailing about.

"Hold still, now - "

"Dada,  _not the face_  - "

With a huge splash, Macky wriggled free from his father's soapy grip, knocking himself over in the process.

Coughing up water, he re-surfaced from the tub as Eamonn reacted in a heartbeat, huge calloused hands pulling Macky's little body to stand upright.

For a smattering of a moment, Audrey thought that he might start to bawl; snot was running from both his nose and mouth, and tears of bafflement had already begun to well up in his hazel eyes.

But Eamonn's booming belly laughter broke the silence, shaking the children out of their frozen state and infesting them with fits of uncontrollable chortling.

Soon enough, Audrey was lying on the tiles, gleeful shrieks filling the tiny bathroom as her father's hands found their way to her sides, tickling her mercilessly. His big, beardy smile above her instilled her with a warmth that twisted in her gut, growing into a huge lump that suddenly felt way too heavy, tearing at her abdomen like the claws of a wild animal, carving into her in white-hot rage until -

" _Oy, time's up_!"

A huge, involuntary inhale of stale air racked Audrey's body as her eyelids snapped open with a start.

Reflexively, her hands shot up to shield her eyes from the piercing light, groaning as she struggled to make sense of the numbness in her limbs.

 _What_? She rolled the word around in her mouth, wincing a little at the dull pain pulsating behind her temples. "W-what?" she mumbled, slurring the word as if her tongue was still figuring out how to curl around it.

The fog surrounding her mind seemed to clear a little when she moved - Audrey sat up, stretching her legs experimentally, pushing past the weird throbbing sensation.

"Yer thirty minutes!"

Finally, mercifully, the light shifted out of her face. Audrey recognized the source as a short, stubby wand, clutched in the likewise stubby fingers of a decidedly disgruntled looking witch.

"Don't even think about puking now, lass. If ye're not to keen on payin' an additional five, that is!"

Audrey blinked at her for a few confused seconds before the realization hit her with the force of a bludger.

_The Memory Den._

She propped herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, only now noticing the way her jumper clung to the sweat-soaked skin of her back.

Grunting, the tiny witch scurried on to a cot to Audrey's right, promptly proceeding to wake its inhabitant with the same harsh call that had torn Audrey out of her dream.  _Not dream_ , she corrected herself, her stomach cramping painfully. She could almost make out the faint smell of honeysuckle, teasingly fleeting, spinning around the edge of her memory as if to taunt her. The memory had been so real, so vivid.

They had been  _right there:_  only that they weren't, and never would.

Frowning, Audrey scanned her surroundings. She remembered, now that her initial stupor had cleared up almost entirely: everything looked just as it had when she first entered the low, sparsely lit room. With no windows along the tarnished walls, the only source of light came from a single flickering orb hovering just above their heads, painting eerie shadows onto the slack faces of the unconscious.

Audrey wanted to avert her gaze, to not think about just how inanimate the bodies around her looked, but she couldn't snap out of it. To her left lay the crumpled body of a goblin, one long-fingered hand ungracefully dipped into the makeshift Pensieve floating next to his cot, the muscles of his leathery face so loose that his mouth hung slightly agape.

She must have looked exactly like that, Audrey figured, but it was hard to imagine. In there, everything had been a fuzzy blur of warmth and bittersweet joy, nothing like this drug-induced near comatose state.

The witch was back, banging her wand against a small metal dish, causing the huge gold coins in it to rattle.

"That's fifteen, now," she said, impatiently waiting for a startled Audrey to fumble for her mokeskin purse.

Five minutes later and equipped with a disturbingly lighter pouch, Audrey stepped outside, a slight tremble lingering on her hands as she tightened her fingers firmer around the fastenings of her cloak, blinking into the lazy beams of a late afternoon sun.

She'd rarely ever been gladder to see sunlight, even the dismal, murky kind that illuminated the wet cobblestones she'd trudged upon, polluted by whatever shady magical oddments wafted through the dingy windings of Knockturn Alley.

Dusk was falling swiftly. Gas lights flickered to life in the dodgy shop windows Audrey passed on her way back to Diagon Alley. There weren't many people about, and the ones she ran into mostly avoided her, safe for a few wary scowls thrown her way. Her brand new set of canary yellow robes felt terribly out of place in this shady part of Wizarding London.

They had made her feel protected, at least somewhat: the bright, cheery colour serving as an emotional shield against the gloom of Knockturn Alley. But the Pensieve had taken its toll. Now, the crammed buildings seemed to tower over her, the dusty windows resembling blindly staring eyes, mocking her naivety.

Audrey's stomach still felt quite queasy when she finally entered a familiar, narrow alleyway. Gringotts' brilliantly white marble exterior was just visible over a lopsided row of crooked rooftops, the minuscule flat that was her home of four months stuffed underneath one of them.

A short man in a purple top hat made a huffing noise of distaste as Audrey stepped out of the shadows of Knockturn Alley, her apologetic smile lost to the bustling Friday evening crowd. She felt a blush creeping up her neck as a tall, willowy witch gripped the small boy tailing behind her by the hand, yanking him to her side and speeding her steps in an obvious effort to avoid Audrey.

 _Merlin_. The war might have been won, but people appeared to be more paranoid than ever, scuttling through the streets as if they expected Voldemort to pop up from behind  _Mr Spindle's Jolly Treats'_  overflowing sweets cart any second.

Nearly five months had passed since Harry Potter (' _The Chosen One_ ', ' _Gryffindor's Golden Boy_ ', ' _Dreamy Eyes_ ' or whatever else ridiculously preachy title the editors of the  _Daily Prophet_  would come up with this week) had defeated the Dark Lord in a glorious display of heroism, ridding Magical Britain of the dark forces it had been plagued by for the better part of a year.

It had seemed impossible at the time, but life went on. Summer arrived, if later than usual; it only seemed fitting that even the seasons would slow down in their ancient waltz to halt and stare in awe as war ploughed through their lives, unsparing as it was in its nature, leaving an upturned field of grief and deep despair in its wake.

By the time the sunlight finally began to break through its harness of consistently grey clouds, it was well into August, and Fall was quick to cut off the sun's advances.

There was a similar pattern to observe in (more or less oblivious) muggle- and wizardkind alike - smiles were hesitant and slow to return to people's faces, and after an initial rush of the dizzying sort of newfound enthusiasm and liveliness that came hand in hand with the collective relief of burying the last of their lost loved ones, sorrow struck again, pulling the surviving back into its unforgiving clutches and abruptly ending their foolish dash towards a place of contentment.

Audrey knew the feeling all too well. Reaching the North Side of the main alley, she squeezed past a small gathering of off-duty Ministry Officials, excitedly chattering and nipping at their after-work drinks.

Recognizing a bright mop of curls belonging to a former Ravenclaw from her year, she waved in passing. A stinging sensation shot up her arm at the motion, making Audrey flinch in pain.

Sally acknowledged her with a thin smile and curt nod, but Audrey hardly noticed. Gripping her left arm and pushing past a barrel filled with flobberworms, she pulled her wand and tapped against the yellow-tinted bricks of the Apothecary, revealing the previously concealed door to her small rental flat.

Hastily unlocking and closing the red door behind her, Audrey made quick work of the buttons on her cloak, carelessly shrugging the fabric from her shoulders.

There, etched into the fragile skin of her inner wrist, was the bulging scar, pale against her swarthy complexion.

They had all been given numbers, straying from the traditional marking of Azkaban's prisoners only in the cruel manner in which the Snatchers had carved into their arms with cutting spells instead of inking their skin.

Audrey traced the outlines of the ragged symbols with trembling fingers, slightly alarmed at the sudden soreness of the old blemish. It hadn't been hurting in  _months_.

Months in which she had fed into the false hope that she'd be able to simply forget, to leave the monsters of the past in their undisturbed slumber and pay no mind to the foul, twisted curse that would now be sliced into her skin for the rest of her life.

 _The rest of her life_  - not for the first time, the thought of all the years yet to come clogged Audrey's throat with an unaccustomed bitterness typically reserved for witches way past her age.

Azkaban had marked the beginning of what she had, back then, considered to be the end. With death seemingly always only so many feet behind her and the unbearable, sobbing cries of muggleborns begging for mercy in the neighbouring cells of that dark, dreadful place - an ending to all of it offered a reality she had been willing,  _hoping_ to face.

Azkaban was not a place. Azkaban was the promise of utter hollowness and deep, agonizing pain that had begun to grow inside of her, forming a personal prison right inside her head.

Audrey pressed her eyes shut, forcefully swallowing the tears stinging behind them.

Only now did she allow herself to relax, the fear and excitement of the past hour leaving her lungs in a shuddering exhale. Sighing into the twilight of her narrow entryway, Audrey leaned against the door in her back. She screwed up her nose and opened her eyes, blinking as she took in the frail shoulders and defeated posture of the hunched figure slumped against the opposite wall.

Her reflection glowered back at her, dark eyes gleaming.

"Bad day?" said the mirror in a drawling voice, cackling as Audrey jerked in surprise. Muttering obscenities under her breath, she bent down to pick up her robes and disappeared up the steep flight of stairs, taking two steps at a time.

"We've all been there!"

The mirror let out another gurgling laugh.

✰

It was raining by the time Audrey woke in the late morning hours of the following day. She pressed her face deeper into the soft fabric of her pillow, inhaling the faint flowery smell of her shampoo. Her dreams had been vivid and disturbing, her mother's vacant eyes and cold fingers chasing her through an impenetrable forest, thorns clawing at her hair and clothes. She woke repeatedly throughout the night, panicked and sweaty, her racing pulse thrumming a frenzied staccato beneath her temples.

Audrey rolled onto her back, squinting into the shadows of her bedroom.

The sneakoscope on her desk stood unmovingly, gleaming in the single streak of sunlight poking through the drawn curtains.

Tentatively wriggling her toes, Audrey snuggled back into her blanket. She felt considerably better than yesterday and was rather content with the prospect of squeezing in a nap before her shift at St Mungo's.

Smiling to herself, she rolled over, eyes fluttering shut.

Seconds later, she was sitting bolt upright, startled by the booming crack of her bedroom door bursting open and hitting the wall.

"Wakey-wakey!" roared an irritatingly cheery voice, followed by the dazzling light of a late morning sun flooding the room as the curtains were yanked open.

"No, no, no, no,  _no_."

Fumbling for the edge of her comforter, Audrey buried herself under the sheets to shield her eyes from the cruel attack.

"Rise and shine!"

" _Angelina_ -"

Audrey covered her eyes with both hands as the blanket was dragged from her curled-up body.

Glancing through her fingers, she grimaced at the grinning face of Angelina Johnson.

"You're late for brunch."

Groaning, Audrey collapsed back into her pillows, struggling to remember exactly what had been riding her when she had offered Angelina the spare keys to her flat.

After some prodding, she finally gave in and shuffled out of bed, her stiff joints complaining. Sitting cross-legged on a cardboard box, Angelina chattered away merrily - work, Quidditch, Alicia Spinnet's newest beau, Quidditch and the latest  _Falcon_ game (Quidditch) being only some of the various topics she grazed upon.

Audrey didn't even attempt to look or sound even the slightest bit invested. She was grateful for her loud, short-fused friend's infallible ability to distract her with what ultimately was trivial, conversational chit-chat - around Audrey, Angelina always seemed to apprehend precisely when the circumstances demanded her to breach sensitive matters instead of being her blunt, no-nonsense self.

Audrey got dressed in a hurry once she got a look at the time, nearly breaking her neck as she swiftly led the way down the perpendicular staircase.

It had always been slightly exasperating to keep up with the tall, black witches' absurdly long legs, but this morning, Audrey found herself embarrassingly out of breath as she hurried alongside Angelina's purposeful stride.

The Leaky Cauldron was unusually packed for a Saturday morning: searching the room for an empty table with one sweepy look, Audrey noticed that most of the excitedly chattering crowd appeared to be families on their way to Diagon Alley. Her heart sunk into her stomach. Of course: September 1st was on Tuesday. She hadn't exactly forgotten about the rapidly impending day, it was just that she didn't like to be remembered.

" _Oy_! Over here!"

"Angelina!"

There, in a corner booth just to their left, wide smiles on both their faces, sat Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley, waving frenetically past a grumpy looking pack of dwarves.

"It's so good to see you!" said Ginny, clapping Angelina on the back as she fell onto the cushions next to her.

"You too, Audrey." Hermione smiled up at her, gesturing Audrey to have a seat. "I'm shocked, Hermione - " Audrey grinned and pointed to a bulging paper bag to the bushy-haired witches feet. "Bit late to get your textbooks, innit?"

Audrey didn't know Hermione all too well, but she had been on enough prefect rounds with her to know that the studious Gryffindor liked to be prepared, not only when it came to classes.

"She's accompanying me," Ginny said, giggling into her pumpkin juice as Hermione blushed furiously, "we're running some, erm, errands."

Angelina's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Errands, huh?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could quip in, a voice called:

"Gin! Hermione!"

A tall, broad-shouldered boy gave a wave from the other end of the room, coming up to their table with an ear-splitting grin on his handsome face.

Dean Thomas pulled up a chair from the neighbouring table and fell into it, long legs nudging Audrey's as he winked at her.

"Alright, Simmons?"

Audrey beamed back up at the younger wizard, stifling the urge to ruffle his hair like she used to back when he'd been at least one head shorter than her. She had expected it to hurt, seeing one of her brother's best mates for the first time after...  _everything_ , but it didn't.

For the very first time in what felt like a lifetime, Audrey felt a genuine pool of warmth spreading in her chest as she looked around the table. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed this: the rosy-cheeked, unashamed joy of getting together with old friends without the purpose of burying another in the cold, hard ground.

As Ginny and Hermione made their leave half an hour later ("Mum'll throw a fit if we don't show up before lunch -"), Dean followed their lead, leaving Audrey and Angelina to linger at the table.

"I'll never get how you can drink at this time of day." Audrey shook her head in mild disgust.

Waggling her eyebrows, Angelina tilted the glass towards her.

"Cheers!"

Audrey sipped at her tea.

"So," Angelina said.

"So?"

Fiddling with the hem of her jumper, Audrey shifted under Angelina's scrutinizing gaze.

" _So_ , what are you not telling me?" Angelina set her Firewhisky down, leaning onto the wood.

Was it that obvious? Audrey met her dark eyes innocently, internally pondering the best way to leave without coming off rude. She was a terrible liar; even more so if she tried to fool someone she was close with.

Audrey took a deep, quivering breath.

"Remember... remember the Memory Den I told you about?"

Angelina nearly choked on her drink.

"Are - you -  _mental_?," she wheezed, coughing and spluttering, tiny drops of Firewhisky landing on her shirt.

Firmly patting her friend's back, Audrey glanced around, apprehensive of some of the nosier folks that regularly hung around the Leaky Cauldron, always on the hunt for juicy gossip to spice up their otherwise presumably unexciting lives.

Leaning into Angelina, Audrey dropped her voice to a whisper.

"I'm fine, nothing happened, it wasn't even  _that_ \- "

" _I told you to stay the bloody hell away from this place_!" Angelina whisper-shouted, her face darkening in a deep, angry blush. Whipping her long, braided hair over one shoulder, she looked dangerously ready to pounce.

Audrey swallowed hard and nibbled on the cauldron cake that came with her tea, trying to stifle the heat building in her throat. She felt nauseous.

Angelina didn't know what it was  _like_ , she didn't lose  _family_ , she  _wasn't_ the one waking up from nightmares, mistaking her own sweat for blood - 

"You don't know what you're talking about," Audrey said, her voice shaking with barely repressed emotion.

The ensuing silence was awkward but short-lived, only disturbed - quite literally - by the  _Pumpkin Pasties_  bemoaning a wicked affair in what Audrey considered to be their most obnoxious single yet, ' _Malicious Maledictus_ '.

With a casual flick of her wand, Angelina silenced the radio, shooting the barkeeper, a quaint, sandy-haired woman, a dirty look that effectively kept her from objecting.

"You do realise," she hissed, ignoring Audrey's pained expression as he gripped the petite woman's arm a tad too tightly, "that those botched up Pensieves are banned for a reason, right?"

Gone was the good spirit from earlier, replaced by the sour taste of reality. Audrey had anticipated a rude awakening, but that didn't make it any less painful.

"I can take care of myself, I'm a bloody healer," Audrey muttered into her cup, but something in Angelina's face decided her against pressing the matter. 

"I'm also late for work." Standing, Audrey pulled out her father's mokeskin pouch and dropped a few sickles on the table.

"Drink's on me."

Angelina made no attempt to stop her, and for that Audrey was thankful: she felt guilty enough as it was, stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the clammy drizzle of Muggle London.

With a soft  _plop_ , she disapparated.

✰✰✰

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  :)
> 
> This chapter should've been uploaded yesterday afternoon (British time), but the Wi-Fi was down.  It's also a little bit of a filler (I didn't want to jump right into Audrey's backstory, that would be boring, no?), littered with a few clues that point to the unfolding plot, but I'm hoping it was entertaining enough!
> 
> Next chapter will be from Percy's POV. 
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
